


patience yields focus

by ailurea



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Cock Warming, Cock Warming, Domestic Fluff, Domestic smut, Established Relationship, M/M, Somnophilia, booty shorts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:21:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28324488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ailurea/pseuds/ailurea
Summary: It's an early vacation morning in Keith and Shiro's apartment, and Shiro's a little busy while Keith's a little eager. Of course, they both make things work for the best.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 53
Kudos: 456





	patience yields focus

**Author's Note:**

  * For [QuantumAbyss_mal (lonestarjdv)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lonestarjdv/gifts).



> for quantum, who requested some sheith cockwarming and booty shorts. thank you so much for your patience, and i hope you enjoy! ♥
> 
> * * *
> 
> this piece was done in collab with [toy](https://twitter.com/eventoysneedluv)! check out their art in the fic and [on twitter](https://twitter.com/eventoysneedluv/status/1342604263185412096?s=20)!
> 
>  **content notice:**  
>  consent is not explicitly given before sexual situations occurring in this fic. sheith are in an established relationship with an active sex life and are both very much into the situation.

It’s late morning by the time Shiro hears Keith stirring next to him.

It starts with a soft huff of breath that could still be mistaken for sleep, and then Keith rolls onto his side, sheets crinkling under him as warm fingers blindly reach out to touch Shiro’s thigh.

“Morning,” Shiro says quietly as Keith’s eyelids flutter awake. He reaches out and pushes Keith’s hair behind his ear.

Keith turns his face and kisses the edge of Shiro’s palm. It’s not a new sensation—he can’t even count how many times Keith’s done it in the past few years they’ve been together—but Shiro’s heart flutters like it’s the first time.

“Time is it?” Keith says, voice still dragging itself from the pull of sleep.

Shiro checks his laptop screen. “Ten thirty,” he says. “Just about.”

Keith looks at him, and then his gaze travels slowly down. Shiro watches as he takes in the blanket, the purple lap desk, and Shiro’s laptop, the screen filled with the report that he’s been poking at the past couple hours. “Are you working?”

Shiro puts a hand on the back of Keith’s head and scratches the nape of his neck. Keith gives him a look that says he’s unimpressed by Shiro’s attempt to curry favor.

“I just have to get this report in before the holidays,” Shiro says. He tugs lightly at Keith’s hair. “If you remember, someone didn’t exactly let me finish it last night.”

Keith sticks out his tongue. “Takes two to tap dance,” he says, like he wasn’t the one who had an all-day event called _Seduction Night_ saved on his calendar that ended in bending Shiro over the kitchen table.

They probably need to wipe that down.

Keith flops over onto his back and stretches his arms above his head with a heavy groan, his oversized sweater slipping off his shoulder on one side. Shiro puts both hands on his keyboard and tries very hard not to think about the arch of Keith’s back.

Keith rolls his neck and turns back to Shiro. “How far are you with it?”

“With what?” Shiro says, staring at the line of Keith’s throat.

Keith tilts his chin down, catching Shiro’s eye, and looks pointedly back at the laptop.

“Right.” Shiro turns to his screen, eyes skimming the text. He left off in the middle of a sentence and by now his brain is full enough of Keith that he has no idea how he meant to finish it. “I’ll be done soon.”

Keith scoots his way back over, joining Shiro under the blanket to mold himself against the line of Shiro’s side. “You’re so cold.”

“All the blood is probably in my brain,” Shiro says.

“Hm. We can fix that.”

Well, that’s not a suspicious tone at all. Shiro squints at Keith’s face, but Keith looks down before Shiro can catch his expression. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Keith says, which is, possibly, the most questionable answer of all.

Keith kisses the side of his thigh, and Shiro gives him one last suspicious look (which is returned with an angelic smile that makes his heart melt because he’s weak) before turning back to his laptop.

He scrolls up, quickly rereading the last few paragraphs of the report to refresh himself on the context. He actually is most of the way through it—he found enough time to work this morning that the only pieces left to write are wrapping up the results of the findings and making recommendations for moving forward. And luckily it’s just the rough draft that he needs to turn in. He’s learned over the years that there are so many stages of review to get through that it isn’t worth trying to make this draft too neat—it’ll be unrecognizable by the time it gets through the cycle.

Shiro erases the sentence he left unfinished—he’s still not exactly sure where he was going with that—and has just started in on a new one when his dick twitches to attention.

Shiro stares at the lump under the blanket that is Keith’s wandering hand, toying with his cock through the flap of his boxers, and then gives Keith a stern look that’s probably instantly ruined by how soft he feels when Keith looks at him like that, beautiful and sleep-mussed.

Shiro re-sterns himself. “Keith. When I said I’d be done soon, I was assuming I wouldn’t be distracted this time.”

“Patience yields focus?” Keith suggests.

“Hey.” Shiro pokes Keith’s nose. “I refuse to let you sully a perfectly good phrase.”

Keith squeezes Shiro’s cock lightly in retaliation, and Shiro wheezes. “Do you want me to stop?”

They stare at each other, Shiro keenly aware that, as his horny levels rise, his interest in winning this contest of wills steadily decreases. The corner of Keith’s lip lifts in a smirk, and the hand around his cock pumps once, firmly but slowly. Shiro makes a strangled noise and turns back to his laptop, because no, he doesn’t want Keith to stop, and Keith more than knows it.

“Attacked in my own home,” Shiro grumbles.

“Love you,” Keith says, cheeky and fond.

“Love you,” Shiro says, and he may have lost the battle, but he refuses to win the war. He turns all of his brainpower back toward his computer screen and tries to remember what the hell he was doing this time.

Writing closing paragraphs. Yes. Simple. Totally doable, even with Keith’s hand roaming all over, sneaking under his shirt, smoothing over his abs, finding the shape of his thigh, reaching through the flap in his boxers to toy with his cock.

Shiro. Is. Focused.

Very focused.

He ekes out a paragraph, and then another, before he’s disrupted again by the mattress dipping beside him, and Keith saying, “Lift your lapdesk for a sec?”

Shiro does it without thinking, and ends up with Keith’s butt in his face. He freezes like a deer in headlights when he sees the _BABY BOY_ emblazoned across Keith’s ass, dick twitching embarrassingly hard. “I thought you threw this out.”

“It’s soft,” Keith says, which was a valid reason for keeping it when he originally got it as a gag gift, but which does not stand now that Shiro has given him plenty of other soft shorts to wear that don’t say _that_ on it.

“What happened to your other soft shorts?” Shiro says, an edge of panic in his voice. “The ones you usually wear?”

“They’re all in the hamper,” Keith says, leaning over to drag a pillow closer to himself. “Was going to do laundry yesterday, but then…”

Shiro can only assume that he means Seduction Night took precedence over chores. “And whose fault was that?”

“Hey, I’m not the one complaining about the shorts,” Keith says, wiggling his ass in Shiro’s face, _BABY BOY_ , _BABY BOY_ taunting him with every sway.

Shiro swats him lightly.

Keith looks over his shoulder at him and smirks in a way that makes Shiro’s hackles rise.

Keith tugs his shorts to the side, reaches back to grab Shiro’s cock, and seats himself firmly on it in one smooth movement.

“Keith,” Shiro wheezes, clutching his laptop to his chest, “I’m still working.”

“You can keep working.” Keith plops his pillow down over Shiro’s shins, fluffs it a bit, and then folds himself over, wiggling himself into a comfortable position.

Shiro stares down at where they’re joined. He feels light-headed. “What am I supposed to do with my laptop?”

“You can put it here.” Keith wiggles his ass on Shiro’s cock, a little up-down-up-down that diverts all of the sorely-needed blood from Shiro’s brain.

Shiro puts the lap desk down over Keith’s lower back, if only to stop Keith from moving anymore. “I can’t type if you don’t stay still.”

“I will stay very still,” Keith promises, fluffing his pillow again. “Night.”

Shiro leans to the side to frown at him. “You’re just going to sleep here?”

“Well, you’re still working, right?”

Shiro looks down at his cock again. “I really don’t think that’s been stopping you.”

“I’m just getting you warmed up for later,” Keith says, face turned enough into the pillow that his voice comes out slightly smushed. “Back to work now.”

Shiro squints at him in distrust, but when Keith doesn’t move from his going-back-to-sleep position across Shiro’s legs, Shiro reluctantly turns back to his laptop.

It’s hard not to be distracted by the feeling of Keith around him. It feels like every thirty seconds Shiro’s brain decides to remind itself _hey, you’re cock-deep in your boyfriend right now_ and sends a pulse of arousal through his entire body that makes him take in a hiss of breath and squeeze his eyes shut, while Keith trembles in light laughter.

But somehow, between one paragraph and the next, the feeling of distraction fades into comfort. He’s still pretty sure he can feel his heart beating through his dick, but it’s more soothing than stressful—a gentle rhythm he thinks he could almost fall asleep to, himself.

Shiro reaches out with his prosthesis, gently touching Keith’s waist under his sweater.

Keith squirms.

Shiro withdraws his hand. “Too cold?”

“Feels nice,” Keith mumbles, and Shiro gently places his hand back.

It’s a bit slower-going, trying to finish the report with one hand idly stroking Keith’s side and the curve of his ass, but it’s worth it to feel the rise and fall of Keith’s steady breaths as he works.

Time passes in a warm haze.

Shiro eventually manages to finish the report (after reviewing it more than a few times to make sure he didn’t make any unfortunate Freudian slips, because he does not trust his brain right now). He saves the file and quickly drafts up an email to his team, attaching the report and including a brief message that he also obsessively checks over. After a tenth reread where he’s assured that the email is completely professional, he signs off and sighs, setting his laptop aside. “And done. That didn’t take too long, right?”

The bedroom stays quiet.

“Keith?”

Keith snores.

Shiro pokes him lightly with his knee. “Keith, you’re not actually asleep, are you?”

Keith stays a warm, heavy weight across Shiro’s legs, and Shiro is left to contemplate what exactly he should be doing next in this situation.

Okay, well, first off, he’s pretty sure this is not the most comfortable position for Keith to be sleeping in. He grabs onto Keith’s waist and tries to lift him, but he’s heavier than expected and the angle is not ideal, and Shiro promptly drops him back down, huffing when his cock twitches at the unintended stimulation.

He looks over the slope of Keith’s back, at his face turned onto the pillow across Shiro’s shins. From what he can tell, Keith is apparently still sleeping away. He must really be tired.

It’s a good thing Shiro doesn’t have to go to the bathroom.

He flops his head back against the headrest and closes his eyes, fingers idly toying with the edges of Keith’s shorts. He has a sudden urge to tear them apart, if only so Keith will have to actually throw them away this time.

It’s not so much the shorts themselves, awful as they are—it’s the embarrassing memories attached to them.

The first time Keith wore them around the apartment—because _they’re soft_ , the only criteria that really matters to Keith when it comes to clothing—Shiro spewed orange juice out his nose and tried to pass it off as something that just happens to him every so often.

The second time, he crushed the handle of a vase and sent the rest splintering to the ground. He can’t remember what excuse he gave that time, but he knows for sure that Keith didn’t buy it.

The third time, they had gone through a perfectly normal day with Keith wearing perfectly normal joggers, and then Shiro was ambushed with the shorts while laying half-naked in bed, with no way to hide how interested his dick was inside his boxers.

That night was one of the best nights of his life, and led to the revelations that (a) Shiro really, really enjoys calling Keith _baby_ , (b) Shiro has yet to be sold on the _daddy_ thing but Keith is shameless about things he says in bed, and (c) Shiro comes from being fucked embarrassingly quickly and Keith enjoys taking full advantage of it—as he did last night.

All right, maybe that one was a good memory.

Shiro feels overheated thinking about it, remembering the slide of Keith’s tongue against his and the way their bodies molded together as Keith drove him to madness. He can’t help but chase that warmth again, folding himself over Keith’s back, pushing up Keith’s sweater to kiss his way up his spine.

Keith makes a soft sound, and Shiro freezes with his lips pressed against Keith’s neck.

He sits up a bit, hands still on Keith’s back. “Keith?”

Keith doesn’t respond, his face still relaxed in sleep.

Slowly, Shiro leans back, his hands sliding down Keith’s back to grip his waist instead. There’s a bit of give to the mattress underneath Shiro, enough for him to move his hips and match the way he gently rocks Keith up and down.

Shiro’s head tips back against the headboard with a thud as he inhales between his teeth.

Keith is soft and heavy and hot and Shiro isn’t entirely sure he should be doing this but fuck does it feel good.

They’ve done things like this before, teasing each other with fingers and lips, but this feels right on the edge of something different, something more taboo that sends shivers down his spine even as he does it again and again.

He tries to keep his movements steady and hold most of Keith’s weight so that the way down won’t jar him awake.

On one hand, he wants Keith to wake up—to see his reaction as he’s coaxed from one dream into another.

On the other, he wonders what would happen if Keith doesn’t—how he would feel if he woke up sore and sticky and sated without knowing why. Of course, it wouldn’t take him very long to put things together, and after that… Shiro thinks he’s equally likely to either demand a do-over or to silently plot revenge.

He slams a little too hard into Keith at that last thought, and, in front of him, Keith makes a muffled sound.

Shiro slowly leans over, pressing his chest against Keith’s back and his cock all the way in. He slides his hands up Keith’s sides, cupping the front of his shoulders. “Hey, baby, you awake?”

This time, Keith stirs underneath him, making a noise of vague discontent. “You done yet?”

"Depends on what you’re asking about,” Shiro says, kissing the top of his spine before leaning back again.

Keith makes his disgruntled noise again. “What else would I be ask— _oh_.”

Shiro moves him again, fully letting gravity help deepen his thrusts now that Keith’s awake.

“Fuck.” Keith hunches over, legs trembling and fingers scrabbling at Shiro’s calves. “Fuck, Shiro.”

Keith’s voice, still thick with sleep, makes his blood roar. Shiro lifts him higher, nearly all the way off now before slamming back in with a sharp snap of skin and skin.

“Nngh.” Keith groans, muffled, as he starts moving his hips, helping Shiro thrust deeper, faster. His hands squeeze at Shiro’s legs. “How long have you—mm.”

He doesn't finish the question, breaking off into a cracked moan instead, but he doesn't have to. “Long enough.”

Keith huffs. “Could’ve woken me up.”

“But you looked so cute sleeping,” Shiro says, pausing in his movements to squeeze Keith’s ass with both hands. “And what if you were having a nice dream?”

“As a matter of fact, I was,” Keith says, wiggling in his hold.

“Really?” Shiro says. “What kind of dream?”

Keith gives Shiro an exasperated look over his shoulder. “The kind where you were _fucking me properly_.”

“Demanding,” Shiro says. He reaches over, pulling Keith up with hands on his waist. "Come up here."

Keith follows him up until he’s straddling Shiro’s lap, leaning back against his chest, hands on the bed for balance. Shiro kisses him, and it’s searing and wet and Shiro thinks he could come from it alone, but he has plans.

He nips at Keith’s lip before drawing back, and is pleased to find that Keith looks as flush and rumpled as his feels. He slides his hands to Keith’s hips. “Ready?”

Keith nods and starts moving, Shiro guiding him into a quick rhythm that leaves them both breathless.

“There we go, baby,” Shiro breathes. He takes some of Keith’s weight in his hands, helping Keith bounce faster, deeper, and at some point Shiro’s head painfully meets the headboard again, but he doesn’t even care with the heat and tension he feels stretching through his body. “Oh sweetheart, I love you so much, you feel so good.”

Keith whines and falls forward, hands sliding in front of him to support him as he moves faster and faster, breath leaving him in hot pants.

Shiro feels his own breathing pick up, too. His hands leave Keith’s hips to embrace him instead as he presses his face against Keith’s back, mouthing mindlessly at his skin as the buzzing in his head reaches a crescendo.

"Fuck, Keith." He sucks a bruise into the side of Keith’s neck until he can’t take it anymore. “Baby, I'm gonna come."

"Do it," Keith says breathlessly.

“Ah!” Shiro squeezes tight, clutching Keith to him as he comes, shuddering, burying a groan in the back of Keith's neck.

He just stays there for a moment, panting for breath and relishing in the feeling of Keith’s skin hot and sticky on his. Then he lays back on the bed, pulling Keith down with him so he’s laying across his chest.

“I love you,” Shiro murmurs, reaching down to wrap his hand around Keith’s cock, and kisses him until Keith comes with a soft moan against his lips, muscles trembling against him.

He pets Keith until he settles, his breaths evening and his weight heavy on Shiro’s chest.

Keith wets his lips, then says, voice tired and cracked, “You know I’m going to get you back for that, right?”

Shiro hides his smile with another kiss. “I can’t wait.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to my beta alex for giving this a read over, and to toy for holding my hand through this ilu!! check out toy's art post on twitter [here](https://twitter.com/eventoysneedluv/status/1342604263185412096?s=20)!
> 
> and thank you so much for reading! ♥  
> i love, appreciate, and reply to all comments, even if it takes me a little while to get to them :)
> 
> catch me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/ailurea)!


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